


The Window Cleaner

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, apartment owner Castiel, window cleaner Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 10:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: Castiel lives in an apartment building where every Thursday he works from home. Every other Thursday his windows get cleaned by a miserable-looking man in his sixties. Castiel's Thursdays go topsy-turvy when one Thursday there's a new window cleaner.





	The Window Cleaner

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on the Rumi quote:
> 
> "Your body is away from me, but there is a window open from my heart to yours."

The light in the room dimmed and subtle shadows slid across the papers and keyboard on Castiel’s desk. He blinked. Was it that time already? He caught a yawn before it was fully fledged and glanced at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes after mid-day. The window cleaner was fifteen minutes late. Castiel pushed himself back from his desk and computer. It had been a long morning. Still in his chair he bent double, stretching his fingertips to touch his stockinged toes and he felt the stiffness ease out of his back and shoulders. A bone clicked somewhere.

The window cleaner’s platform, suspended by ropes and pulleys outside the building, had come to a stop with its right side partially obscuring Castiel’s expensive view of the city and its left hidden by the wall that separated his apartment from his neighbor. The window cleaner, still hidden on the left side of the platform, was a sour-looking man in his sixties who’d been cleaning windows in the building since before Castiel had lived here.

He took stock and decided that despite expectations he was satisfied with his morning’s work. A batch of corporate contracts for his urgent review were being hand-delivered at one. It was a good time for a break. Besides, Castiel had no desire to go through the awkward dance with the window cleaner where they both tried to avoid eye contact through the inch of triple-glazed glass. While the man was still out of sight Castiel rolled his shoulders one more time, eased himself out of his office chair and headed to the apartment’s open-plan kitchen for lunch. 

Hitching up his comfy Thursday pants he opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of iced coffee that he’d made that morning and some cold pizza left over from last night. The pizza went in the microwave and the iced coffee into a glass which Castiel drank standing at the counter while he looked idly at the part of the cityscape he could still see. At least it was Thursday, and he’d gone through the work a lot quicker than if he’d been at the office with its constant interruptions.

Thursdays were working at home in comfy clothes days that helped him clear his desk and his head before the weekend. Thursdays were no commute, left-overs for lunch, takeout for dinner. The only people he saw on Thursdays were the takeout delivery girl, the window cleaner, and occasionally the office delivery boy if something came up during the day that couldn’t wait until Friday.

The microwave beeped. Castiel retrieved his pizza. While he ate the window cleaning platform continued its journey along the building until Castiel could see the whole platform along with the window cleaner kitted out in his hard hat and safety harness and a dark blue coverall that looked too hot for the day. Castiel had been eating his pizza with his mind still focused on his work for a good five minutes before he realized that the man on the platform was not the usual window cleaner. Even then Castiel may have paid scant attention except that this man was particularly deserving of attention. 

The new man was roughly Castiel’s age, maybe a couple of years younger. He had light brown hair cut short so that only the ends and sides showed under the hard hat. Reddish-blond stubble covered his jawline in a way that was obviously groomed and not out of laziness. Green eyes glinted when the sun caught them at just the right angle and a smattering of light freckles showed on his nose and cheeks. Tanned and toned forearms showing under rolled-up sleeves spoke of a lot of hours spent outdoors.

Castiel walked around the kitchen counter to the front sucking the excess pizza cheese off his fingers. He took care to stay in the shadow of a wall as he walked closer to the window. Even though the window cleaner was focused on the glass he was cleaning Castiel didn’t want to be caught so obviously looking.

It was then, while Castiel stood staring with his middle finger still in his mouth, that the window cleaner looked through the window straight at him. Alarmed at being caught out, Castiel brought his finger out of his mouth with a pop that sounded excruciatingly loud and suggestive to his ears. The man couldn’t possibly have heard it, but he smiled, and he winked. 

Mortified, Castiel turned away. Maybe it was an accident; a trick of sunlight on glass. He sat at his kitchen counter with his back to the window and forced himself not to look over his shoulder. 

As the platform slowly moved away past his apartment he prayed that the new window cleaner was a one-time-only replacement.

~~~~~

In Castiel’s apartment building the windows were cleaned every two weeks, washing away the city dust so that the well-off occupants always had the unhindered city view that they paid for. 

The time dragged excruciatingly slowly but by the time window cleaning day came around again he’d convinced himself that the window cleaner hadn’t been looking at him at all but focusing on something on the glass itself. The fact that the man was looking in Castiel’s direction was entirely a coincidence.

Having convinced himself of this, he shouldn’t really have cared whether the window cleaner was the same man as last time or not. Even so, when the platform slid into view he hid in the shadows at the back of his kitchen and mentally kicked himself for being such a coward.

It was the same man. The platform slid across the window and came to a halt by the first window. Castiel backed further into his corner shadow. His lunch sat on the kitchen counter out of reach and untouched. The ice in the iced coffee he’d poured thirty minutes ago had melted. The anticipation of the window cleaner’s arrival had been more of a distraction that Castiel would like to admit to.

The man looked as good as he did two weeks ago. Castiel had wondered if he’d built up the memory of him in his mind to be more than he actually was, but no. The man was still beautiful. His hard hat was tipped back on his head showing more of his face and it was still a very nice face, strong and symmetrical. He started washing the window and Castiel watched every move; every bend, every duck, every stretch. He should probably stop before it became a problem.

Who was he kidding? It was already a problem.

The platform slid along to the next set of windows in Castiel’s apartment. The cleaning exercise began over again. It was hot outside and the window cleaner had the front of his coveralls undone showing a white undershirt. A company logo was sewn on one side of the coverall’s and what looked like a name badge was sewn on the other, though it was too far away to read. A safety harness dangled loosely around his legs.

Castiel looked because he knew that was all he’d ever do. His mother had thrust both blatant and latterly more subtle ‘suitable marriage matches’ at him until he couldn’t trust anyone’s intentions. Distrust is an impossible way to start a relationship, so he’d simply stopped trying. He was unpracticed in flirting, because he’d never had to flirt to get another’s interest; in romance because whoever had been thrown his way was a sure bet, only interested in his family name and fortune; and in bed because … well, things rarely got that far. 

He was well-practiced in daydreaming, though such good source material didn’t often come his way. 

The window cleaner finished the center window and pushed the button to move the platform along to the last window in Castiel’s apartment. The cleaning routine started again. Wash, rub, wipe. Eventually, the window cleaner put down his tools and Castiel waited for him to slide out of sight but instead, the man cupped a hand against the window and peered in to the apartment.

Castiel actually gasped, embarrassing himself. He tried to shrink further back into his corner but there was nowhere to go. So the wink and the smile of two weeks ago probably hadn’t been a trick of the light then. Then the man spotted him. Grinning, he beckoned Castiel closer and against Castiel’s better judgement he went.

Up close the window cleaner was quite simply gorgeous but Castiel would have appreciated the view more if he could have ignored the sound of his own heart pounding in his head. He wiped a suddenly sweaty palm down the side of his pants. 

The man seemed not to notice Castiel’s discomfort and tugged at his coverall until Castiel could clearly see the label sewn into the material. ‘Dean’. It took a moment to sink in to Castiel’s muggy thoughts that the window cleaner was very deliberately telling him his name. Castiel noticed his mouth had dropped open of its own accord and he shut it with a snap. Dean. It was a movie star kind of name. 

Castiel looked up at the window cleaner’s - Dean’s - face. Dean looked like he was waiting for something. Castiel worked some saliva in to his dry mouth and carefully shaped words. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean looked pleased. Then he waved and pushed the button on the platform and slid out of view.

 

~~~~~

Castiel wondered if Dean was simply having fun with him so that when window cleaning day rolled around again he lay in the messy sheets that told the story of the restless night he’d just spent seriously considering breaking with his normal Thursday routine and working from his office.

If he did that he’d have to explain to his colleagues why. Castiel was a terrible liar but obviously he couldn’t tell the truth. But on the other hand, if Dean was playing with him, he didn’t want to be made a fool of. Frustrated and unable to decide, he showered and drank his morning coffee. He got dressed, putting on a pair of casual pants that were both comfy and fitted him well and a blue button-down shirt that was a size too big but according to his sister, Anna, made his eyes ‘pop’. Her word not his. Then he looked at his clothing choice and realized he’d made his decision. Bully for his subconscious.

So yet again, as the window cleaning platform rolled across his window and blocked out his view of the city, he found himself tamping down the butterflies in his gut and hiding in the shadows in his apartment.

This time Dean looked for him straight away, tipping his hard hat back and lifting a hand to the window to shut out the glare as he peered in. Dean scanned the apartment seeming anxious as he failed to find Castiel but then he spotted him, and his face lit up in what looked like honest pleasure. There was nothing in Dean’s behavior that implied he wasn’t being genuine. Maybe he’d regret this later but Castiel’s doubts fell away and he felt a warm tingle of excitement that he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He smiled and stepped out of the shadow. He raised his hand to Dean in a slightly awkward greeting.

“Hello, Dean,” he mouthed.

Dean waved back then he turned and picked up his cloths.

Dean cleaned Castiel’s windows while Castiel watched, slowly sipping at his iced coffee. Castiel found himself relaxing in the odd silent companionship and then laughing as Dean jokingly showed off by flexing a bicep or bending suggestively. Dean occasionally glanced his way as if to check Castiel was enjoying the show and would laugh with him when he saw he was. But the show could only last as long as it took to clean Castiel’s windows and the platform slid across the building too quickly. When Dean had finished the last window Castiel didn’t want him to go. Any second, Dean would push the button that slid the platform off to the right and out of Castiel’s sight for another two weeks. He felt like smashing a window and dragging Dean inside. Impractical, obviously.

Castiel fidgeted with his empty coffee glass as he waited for Dean to go but Dean didn’t push the button, instead fidgeting with the edge of the electric panel on which the button sat. Castiel realized they were both waiting for something that would make saying goodbye easier. He thought of something. He stood up and he walked across to his desk by the window. Dean tracked him across the room with one eyebrow raised. Castiel picked up a pen and wrote his name on the notepad by his keyboard. ‘Cas’, he wrote, feeling ridiculous as he wrote it. It was a shortening of his name that his sister affectionately used. 

He walked across to where Dean waited then he held up the notepad and pointed to himself. 

“Cas?” Dean mouthed, pointing at Castiel.

Castiel nodded. Dean smiled.

“Bye, Cas,” Dean mouthed.

“Bye, Dean.”

Dean pushed the button and slid out of Castiel’s view.

 

~~~~~

Castiel wasn’t sure what was happening with him and Dean, but he’d decided he was just going to go with it. It wasn’t as if anything could happen long term he’d spent two weeks telling himself. Dean was on one side of the window and Castiel was on the other and maybe there was something deep and meaningful and metaphorical in that. He wasn’t going to think about it. So what if all it could ever be was just a bit of fun? When it petered out, which it obviously eventually would, at least he’d have had the satisfaction of enjoying the brief flirtation and not running from it. 

So that Thursday, as the window cleaning platform slid across Castiel’s city view, he didn’t go and hide. While Dean was still hidden with the platform half on Castiel’s side and half on his neighbor’s side of the shared wall, Castiel stretched out of his office chair, fetched his iced coffee, reheated some leftover Chinese food and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter that he’d pulled around ready earlier. The butterflies were still there. The anticipation of seeing Dean still raised his heart rate. He was simply going to keep his expectations under control.

He hadn’t been settled for long when the platform slid across the window, bringing Dean into view. Lovely Dean, beautiful Dean. Dean with the freckles and sunny smile and green eyes that flashed in stray sunlight. That day Dean wore his coverall rolled down with the sleeves tied around the waist so that a Led Zeppelin t-shirt was all he wore on top. His hard hat was tipped back showing his face as he scanned the interior of Castiel’s apartment. Castiel waved. Dean spotted him, smiled and waved back.

Then, instead of reaching down for his cloths to start cleaning the windows, Dean sat down facing Castiel’s apartment with a somewhat cocky expression on his face. Castiel watched, wondering what he was doing. Dean leant over to the side of the platform and into a bag. From the bag, he pulled a plastic box and a water bottle. Dean pointed to the box, then to himself, then to Castiel, then to the counter behind Castiel. Castiel didn’t need to be Einstein to get the message. Apparently, they were going to have a lunch date on either side of a window. Feeling that things had gotten more than slightly surreal, Castiel nevertheless picked up his coffee and food and walked across to the window and eased himself onto the floor to sit opposite Dean. Dean nodded in seeming satisfaction and opened his box and started eating his lunch. Cold burrito from what Castiel could tell.

It should have been uncomfortable, but it was strangely companionable. They couldn’t have a conversation through the triple-glazed glass, but they pointed out things of interest in the city below and when they’d run out of things to point out Dean pulled out a bundle of photos from an inside pocket and showed them to Castiel. There was an older family photo of a man and woman, a small child, not much more than a toddler, and a baby. Dean pointed to the child, then to himself. A second photo had Dean standing proudly next to a younger but taller man at what was obviously the younger man’s university graduation ceremony. Then Dean pointed back to the family picture and specifically to the baby. So, the younger man was Dean’s little brother. 

A couple of group photos joined the small pile by Dean’s side, then a couple more with an older man with a beard on what looked like a hunting trip. There were so many photos that Castiel was certain after a while that Dean had brought them with him especially to show to him. He felt suddenly unsettled. It wasn’t as if this thing they were doing was going to go anywhere. He’d spent two weeks convincing himself of that. He fiddled with his empty lunch containers, pushing a leftover noodle around with a chopstick.

Dean seemed to sense Castiel’s unease. Perhaps he took it as a lack of interest. Regardless, he gathered up his photos with an apologetic lop-sided smile. Brushing crumbs off his lap he stood up. Castiel stood too. For a moment they looked at each other through the glass. Castiel couldn’t keep up the eye contact. He broke first, letting his eyes wander down and across until they settled on the pile of work on his desk. He focused briefly on the work then glanced back at Dean. Dean was putting away the empty containers that had held his lunch and wasn’t looking through the glass. Without looking at Cas, he picked up his cloths and started washing the windows but without any of the playfulness of two weeks ago. Castiel watched him up close for a moment, then turned around and took his own lunch remnants back to his kitchen. 

What just happened and what was he supposed to do with it? He had no idea. Dean sharing his personal photos had felt so intimate. It wasn’t going anywhere, he told himself yet again and anyway he could really do without the distraction. He wasn’t good at relationships at the best of times. He resolved that in two weeks time when window cleaning day came around again he would work from the office.

Their farewell that day was muted and awkward.

~~~~~

Two weeks later and despite all his good intentions Castiel hadn’t gone in to the office. He played with the pens on the desk in front of him, lining them up neatly in a row.

Castiel wondered what had happened to that earlier version of him that had vowed to just enjoy the flirtation. That Castiel had gone for good it seemed. He was confused about what he wanted; one minute scared that Dean was just being friendly, the next scared that he wasn’t. He didn’t know Dean. They’d never spoken. It was ridiculous that his belly was doing flip flops over a man on the other side of a window. 

And what would today bring? Would Dean slide into view with candles and wine? Would he bring music they could silently dance to? Castiel kicked himself back from his desk in frustration. He wasn’t getting any of the morning’s work done and he was expecting a delivery from the office to keep him busy that afternoon. He didn’t even know why he was here. He should go and hide in the bedroom until Dean had gone. Except for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do that. 

He headed for the kitchen. Thirty minutes past eleven. He needed an early coffee. Dean would be here soon. Maybe he could finish his lunch now and shrug politely if Dean suggested they eat together. Dean would be put out, but he’d get the message. If only Castiel knew what that message was.

He sat at the counter and sipped his iced coffee and watched the clock. It was the longest half hour he’d ever spent but eventually the window cleaning platform slid across his window and he steeled himself up to do what needed to be done. Sustaining a relationship from either side of a pane of glass wasn’t practical and Castiel was going to find a way to tell Dean that play time was over.

His resolve wavered as the platform completed the journey to be fully visible, but resolve wasn’t necessary. Dean wasn’t on the platform.

In Dean’s place stood the older man who’d been doing Castiel’s windows for years. As Castiel watched, not sure what to think, not sure whether to be relieved or angry, the man picked up his cloths and started washing Castiel’s windows. Castiel sagged on his stool and turned back to his counter. So, after all that, it really had just been a temporary flirtation. A bit of fun to break up Dean’s day. Maybe Dean had flirted with half the building’s tenants, not just him. How could he have been so stupid as to let himself care? At least he doesn’t have to let Dean down gently he considered bitterly.

The intercom by his door buzzed. Distracted, and swinging between being angry at Dean and angry at himself, he went to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Delivery, Mr. Edlund,” the tinny voice of the doorman said.

“Send him up,” Castiel said. The package from the office, as promised. He eyed with disillusion the pile of papers on his desk that he hadn’t managed to make any inroads into today. 

He watched the window cleaner platform slide slowly across his windows. Slide and stop. Wash. Slide and stop. He opened the fridge door, stared at the cold pizza in the refrigerator but closed the door on it. He wasn’t sure he could eat. His gut felt like a hollow aching pit. It was for the best he tried to tell himself but by God, it hurt. He felt like an idiot.

The door buzzer sounded and he tried to pull himself together as he went to fetch his package. Nobody but Castiel need ever know what an idiot he’d been. He opened the door.

“Hi, Cas.” It was a deep voice with a slight southern twang.

Castiel would swear his heart stopped. He stood, open-mouthed as mixed emotions of excitement and dread jumbled up his insides. For a brief moment he thought he was going to be sick.

Dean held up the bag he carried. “I brought lunch.”

The confidence Castiel had gotten used to seeing in Dean was absent. He looked anxious, as if not sure of his welcome. He waved a hand in the direction of the window cleaner. “I would have warned you, but Rufus got better quicker than anyone expected.”

Dean was as nervous as Castiel and the realization hit Castiel with a warm buzz in his gut. Dean hadn’t been playing with him. He hadn’t known how this thing they had was going to pan out any more than Castiel had, yet he’d persisted. Castiel wanted to grab him, wrap his arms around him and kiss him. He found his voice and his senses. He settled for smiling, for now, and he opened the door, and his heart, wide.

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
